<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Draco's Letters by CallMeAlyKat</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24238762">Draco's Letters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeAlyKat/pseuds/CallMeAlyKat'>CallMeAlyKat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Through the Looking Glass [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff and Humor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:49:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24238762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallMeAlyKat/pseuds/CallMeAlyKat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"The first time Draco had mentioned Hermione Granger, her son was complaining about her buckteeth." Fluffy one-shot (but might be part of a group of stand-alones). Read and review!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Through the Looking Glass [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1749511</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>182</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Draco's Letters</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AN: Story is not mine, but JKR's! I hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Draco had mentioned Hermione Granger, her son was complaining about her buckteeth.</p><p>A week into Hogwarts, it was his first letter to home. She had missed him terribly, and she had gone as far as to beg Lucius to let her fire call him through Severus’s office, but the buffoon had put his foot down. The annoying man had wanted their son to know what it’s like to be independent.</p><p><em>“No, Cissa. We don’t want to smother the boy.”</em> He had said, as if he wasn’t noticeably missing their son as well.</p><p>The large Manor halls felt extra empty without the random peals of laughter as her Draco pulled pranks on the elves, or the tracks of mud that he brought into the house after he played quidditch across the grounds. She even missed the messes he would make as he experimented on Potion kits and baubles and oddities that his father spoiled him with. She had given him a stern lecture after he had turned an entire section of the dungeon neon green, but she found herself wanting to cry when she saw the particular color again in one of the pages of Witch Weekly. She missed her little boy so much.</p><p>“Well, what did he say?” Lucius called from across the table.</p><p>“Hush, I’m just about to read it.” She reprimanded him, serves him right from stopping her from calling her son.</p><p>She sneaked a glance at her husband, noting in satisfaction at his feeble attempt of hiding his excitement. He had pretended to be aloof as Draco had grown up, knowing that it wasn’t proper in their society to openly dote on their children, but she knew that her husband adored their son as much as she did.</p><p>Her attention returned to the letter once again, and she continued to read.</p><p>
  <em>Mother,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hogwarts is amazing, but not as grand as the Manor, though. I like our grounds better as well, but that’s probably because the groundskeeper doesn’t seem to bother to actually do groundskeeping. I’ve been well, and the food here is passable, but I prefer the sweets our elves make. </em>
</p><p>Narcissa faintly smiled at her son’s haughtiness, amused. It was their fault really, she had spoiled him too much, but she never could resist his pleading smile. She made a mental note to ask the elves to make sweets for her to send. He could survive a little more spoiling, he was away from home, after all.</p><p>
  <em>The classes are fun, and I especially like Potions, mostly because Uncle Sev keeps tormenting Potter. The insults he comes up with, you should hear them, Mother, it made me laugh so much once that I almost fell out of my chair! Speaking of Potter, you should see the company he keeps, utterly disgraceful, if you ask me. He made friends with Weasley, can you believe it? I don’t understand why father wanted me to befriend him, he obviously has no taste. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The other people in our year aren’t much interesting as well, they’re all incredibly dumb, it’s a wonder that Uncle Sev doesn’t ban half of our class from ever entering his labs. Well, maybe except for one, but she’s a mudblood, and she’s such an unbelievable swot! -- </em>
</p><p>She frowned at his use of profanity. She would need to talk to Lucius about letting her son hear such crass words.</p><p>
  <em>-- It’s like she memorized our textbooks, what with the way she keeps on parroting them in every class, it’s annoying. She acts so high and proud, but it’s also obvious that she has no friends as well. I for one, wouldn’t come near her with a ten-foot pole, I’m afraid her absurdly wild nest of hair might eat me. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Aside from her atrocious hair, Granger has buckteeth too, mother, you would be disgusted when you see how much of it covers her mouth when she smiles. It makes her look like a beaver! And you won’t believe me if I tell you how much time she spends in the library, she practically lives there. It’s annoying, the way she answers all the questions in every class. I plan to work harder to take her down a peg or two, Merlin knows she needs it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Please tell father that I’ll write to him soon as well. I’ve got to go, Crabbe and Goyle will be abysmal to deal with if we miss breakfast. I’m afraid they’ll eat a classmate if I don’t make sure they’re fed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco</em>
</p><p>“It looks like this letter’s mine,” She said, grinning cheekily at her husband. She tucked the missive into her robes, and rose from the table. “Yours, Draco tells me, will come later.”</p><p>She laughed in satisfaction as Lucius visibly frowned. Serves him right.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The second time Draco had sent her a letter, it contained a week’s worth of tally on how many times Hermione Granger raised her hand in class.</p><p>She rushed to open the letter, grinning at the thought that hers was obviously heavier than the one addressed to Lucius.</p><p>
  <em>Mother,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Thank you for the sweets, I feed the rest of the ones I don’t finish to Crabbe and Goyle throughout the day. You’ve probably saved countless lives by sending treats to keep them fed. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>You won’t believe what happened on Halloween! A troll got past the castle’s defenses, and made Quirrell faint. I saved a memory for you so you could laugh at him too when we get home. I miss you, mum. </em>
</p><p>She was surprised, not just by the presence of the troll, but also by the last sentence. Her son, young as he was, showed her as much affection as Lucius deemed proper, which was to say not much. She traced the sentence with her fingertips, struggling not to burst into tears.</p><p>
  <em>The days are getting cold, and the lessons aren’t much of a challenge. I’ve been trying to surpass Granger, but with all my effort, she still manages to pull ahead, the little swot. She raised her hand 243 times just this week, it was absurd! She sits on her seat as if she’s just waiting to jump. It’s unsightly. She’s like that even in History of Magic, and I can’t even keep my eyes open long enough to get through the class. The ghost we have for a teacher just drones on and on, half the class is asleep by the time he’s finished his third sentence, but Granger just sits there, alert through it all. She can even take notes! It’s bloody annoying!</em>
</p><p>Narcissa chuckled, remembering the old professor. Honestly, she herself barely tried in that class, and if it wasn’t improper for a pureblood witch of her status to cut class, she probably wouldn’t have bothered coming.</p><p>This was also the second time she had heard about the Granger girl from Draco. It made her curious to see her son pay such attention to another, but it was probably borne from his competitive nature. As long as the girl continued to beat his marks, Narcissa would probably never hear the end of it from her son.</p><p>
  <em>That’s all that’s interesting that’s happened since I last wrote to you. And to answer your last letter, No, I do not want to be friends with Pansy. After all these years, mother, I still can’t stand her. You know that! I’ve already pushed her into the pool last summer, and she still hasn’t backed off. So please stop scheming with her mother – and before you deny it, I know you do it. I’ve seen the letter Mrs. Parkinson sent to Pansy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco</em>
</p><p>Narcissa sighed, smirking at how fast Draco had caught on. Purebloods tend to arrange unions from an early age, and it was her favorite hobby as of the moment. Draco had expressed his distaste with Pansy since they were in nappies together, but she didn’t let it bother her. They were young. They might grow to like each other yet, but even if they didn’t, there were a few girls still that would do quite well for her son.</p><p>She sighed happily, tucking the letter away and humming as she conjured a quill and parchment to pen a note to Belladonna. They were going to have so much fun!</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The third time Narcissa heard about Hermione Granger in Draco’s letter, it was to complain, again, about her hair.</p><p>
  <em>Mother,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You wouldn’t believe it, but Potter was allowed to play for Gryffindor! It’s so bloody unfair! First years aren’t even allowed their own brooms! I already wrote to father about it, but it still makes me so mad. The whole thing’s unfair. I hope they kick him out. It’s favoritism, that’s what it is. </em>
</p><p>Narcissa had been shocked when Lucius had told her about the exceptions made for the Potter boy. It was dangerous, that’s what it was. She cared little about Quidditch, but everyone with a brain knew that it was a dangerous sport, and it was only right that first years shouldn’t be allowed to join the teams. It was as if Dumbledore actually <em>wants</em> the Potter boy dead. She snorted in disgust, hiding the gesture behind her hand.</p><p>She readjusted herself, and directed her attention back to the letter.</p><p>
  <em>Hogwarts is the same, but not, because of course it keeps on changing every day. The classes are still interesting, although a bit remedial. I honestly don’t understand how Crabbe and Goyle are flunking them. It’s expected, because they’re rather slow, but it’s annoying to have to tutor them on levitating charms, for heaven’s sake. We all learned those during the first week. I remember Granger got those right on her first try, of course she did. Annoying little swot. But as irritating as that was, it was satisfying to hear her correct Weasley with his pronunciation, of all things.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Speaking of Granger, I swear mother, her hair wants to eat me. I passed by her in the corridor yesterday, and my hand – no, my whole arm – got caught in it. It’s a menace, that’s what it is. It’s distracting, especially in Potions, because it swells to twice its size especially when it’s humid. I have half a mind to give Uncle Sev a formal complaint. But I haven’t—we both know he’ll hate that. </em>
</p><p>Narcissa laughed, imagining the look of annoyance Severus would sport to that.</p><p>Her Draco, it seems, hadn’t yet gotten over his competitive streak with the Granger girl. It was all he talked about during the Holidays, Granger this, and Granger that. There was even a mention of a dragon, but the bulk of her son’s attention was on the apparently absurd fact that Granger, “goody-two-shoe that she was” in Draco’s exact words “would let the oaf Hagrid keep such a dangerous creature in the castle”. Narcissa was used to it by now.</p><p>She had suspected that her son had developed a sort of crush on the girl. It was adorable, although entirely inappropriate because of her blood status. Narcissa didn’t actually care for it, anymore. The war was past, and muggleborns weren’t half bad when trained properly, but there were still expectations for the future of the Malfoy line. The infatuation would eventually fizzle out, and she knew that Draco had been conditioned to avoid her kind. The belief had been drilled into his head since the day he could understand simple sentences.</p><p>The rest of the letter was filled with requests for even more sweets, and talk of more quidditch. Narcissa smiled, tucking the letter away. She missed her little boy, and she couldn’t wait for the next one.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The last letter that she would ever read about Hermione Granger brought her to tears.</p><p>She was old now, her once porcelain skin laden with wrinkles. Her joints kept her up at night, and even the strongest of pain potions couldn’t quiet down the ever-present ache of her bones. She was dying, of cancer of all things. It was a disease that event the best of magic couldn’t cure. Carefully, she gave the eagle-owl a treat. It was the fourth of its kind, as her son had always preferred the species. Taking the letter and opening the envelope, she began to read.</p><p>
  <em>Mother,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lyra gave birth to a boy last night! It was a big baby, all squirming and tears. We’ll bring him to meet you as soon as they get settled in their chateau. I couldn’t bring myself to believe that my little girl had a little boy of her own. I refuse to even think about the details of how my grandson came to be. I asked Granger to obliviate me when they told me that she was pregnant. She of course, little swot that she is, refused. I have taken to completely ignoring the relationship between my daughter and the Potter boy. It was an immaculate conception, for all I care. In my eyes, she’s still the quiet child who used to follow me around. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>How did you ever get used to it – the idea that I wasn’t a child anymore? That I was all grown up? That I, myself, was having children? I don’t think I understand how you handled it with grace. I know I barely keep myself in check whenever I see the Potter boy. Will this feeling ever go away? I know you might laugh, but I’m serious. I could barely accept seeing Lyra grow so much, so fast. I don’t even want to begin to think about what would happen when Scorpius graduates, or when Leo starts to date. Or, Merlin forbid, if Carina decides to take the path that her sister went through.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I truly shudder at the thought. </em>
</p><p>Narcissa laughed, smiling fondly at the letter. She was excited to meet her great grandson! Another little darling to spoil. She wondered if she could guilt Lyra into staying into the Manor, just so she could see them more. Travelling, because of magic, was convenient, but her with her old body, even flooing was tedious, let alone apparating.</p><p>
  <em>Hermione tells me that you’ve been corresponding. I know that you’ve already rejected her, but I wanted to ask myself, just in case you’d agree if it was me who asked (though I seriously doubt it, I know you favor her more than me – which I detest!). Live with us, mother. There’s more than enough room in our house. We could even set up a parlor for you! Just think about the possibilities, your grandchildren, able to terrorize, just a knock away during the holidays. We’d be there, although I strongly advise that you avoid our wing of the house, because –</em>
</p><p>The next sentence was smudged dark with ink, erased. But Narcissa had a feeling that she knew what was previously written, and honestly, he didn’t need to redact it. It wasn’t as if she was still affronted by the blatant crass behavior Draco and his wife frequently got into. She was used to it by now, especially after the early days of their marriage, when Narcissa had still popped into their floo unannounced. After a particularly startling image of her son and her daughter-in-law together, she had made it a point to send house elves ahead whenever she visited.</p><p>
  <em>Hermione made me cross it out – as if you don’t already know. Anyway, back to the matter at hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>If you are still set on staying at the Manor, Hermione has proposed a compromise. We want to take care of you, mum, as you deserve. I know that you say that you’re not old, and you don’t need our help, but it wouldn’t be a bother, truly. We want to spend more time with you, and Hermione especially insisted that we do. She wants us to move in to the Manor.</em>
</p><p>Narcissa gasped, knowing how much strength and true concern it must have taken her daughter in law to make such and offer. The girl had wanted to move in to the house where she was tortured, to take care of a woman who had <em>watched</em> as she was hurt and debased. Her vision suddenly blurred, tears threatening to spill over. Draco had said it, again and again in his letters, that his witch was incredible. Narcissa had believed it, but it was only now that she felt just how deep her son’s words ran true.</p><p>
  <em>She’s… I don’t know how to say it, mum. There are no words to describe how amazing she is. She’s willing to go to such lengths because she knows I love you. And not only because of that, but she genuinely cares for you, a lot. We’ve talked about it, and I even tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. Her stubbornness knows no bounds. So please, spare me endless hours of nagging, and agree? We’re already packed. Just send word and we’ll be there.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Draco</em>
</p><p>Dabbing away her tears of appreciation, she carefully tucked the letter away in a box that held hundreds of others. <em>Hermione Granger</em>, she thought, shaking her head in wonder. There was never any doubt, that they had a strong bond, as they had grown closer over the years of her son’s marriage, but she never would have expected such generosity and concern, even from her saint of a daughter-in-law. It seems like she would never stop owing the girl – for saving Draco from a fate that was like that of his late father, from giving her plenty of grandchildren to dote on, and for loving her as if she was her mother.</p><p>She had lived a happy, full life. Who knew that such happiness would come from the bucktoothed know-it-all that her son had wrote to her to complain about all those years ago?</p><p>Narcissa stood up, making her way towards the east wing of the house. There were preparations to be made! With the well-practiced authority honed through decades of controlling the household, she called for an elf.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love it? Hate it? Constructive criticism is always welcome!!! I would honestly love to hear your feedback &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>